{Percy POV}

"Be here when I get back, Seaweed Brain,"

I couldn't stop thinking about that. Eight words that tumbled around in my head like falling rocks that rattled me down to the core. I didn't want to admit it. Didn't like to admit it. But it was getting painfully clear that I was dying.

After having survived two major wars and a handful of quests, death wasn't exactly a foreign term. There was death everywhere around demigods, we just took extreme measures to cope and avoid it. No one wanted to end up in the Fields of Asphodel, or even worse, the Fields of Punishment. That's why demigods were usually so prone to battle, despite the eager monsters just dying to pick us off. To win glory from the gods and gain a spot in Elysium.

But, the gods can go drown themselves in a mud pit.

Death. I'm not sure how to feel about it. I don't exactly want to die - there was too much to live for here in the mortal world. Annabeth, my mom, Paul, the camps.

But there was something bittersweet about death too. I've survived for so long. I've fought and fought to keep my life, yet the thought of finally leaving these fights, moving past the monsters and the gods and finally getting a chance to settle down. To really settle down. It was nice to think about, I'll admit.

But not in this case.

"Be here when I get back, Seaweed Brain."

Annabeth was here. My friends were here. I'm not ready to leave them yet. I have to be here when she gets back. I have to be here, I tell myself. I have to be here. I have -

I leaned over the bed and hurled into the trashcan. There was hardly anything worth vomiting - nothing but Ritz crackers and sips of juice - but my stomach didn't seem to think that mattered. But even once it was empty of all I've eaten, it didn't have the graciousness to stop.

Somewhere through it, I ended up on the floor.

I doubled over again, melding with the trashcan as my body switched to dry heaving. Tears prickled my eyes as my stomach waged war on the rest of my body, and in the moments that it wasn't trying to climb up my throat, it clamped tight over my lungs and left me gasping for air.

I wasn't sure how long it went on. Time seemed to pass in a blur at that point. But when it finally ceased and my stomach was content with its duty of throwing everything back out, I was finally able to breathe again. Sucking in deep pockets of air, I spit out the sour taste lingering on my tongue, and all but sagged over the trashcan. Hugging it close in case moving brought on another round. I wasn't sure if I could let go at all, actually. My hands were curled so tightly over its sides, the joints seemed screwed to the plastic.

Oh well. I'll become one with the trash.

Bile still sits in the back of my mouth and my throat feels washed down with lava. But once the agony of puking up my innards resides, every other affliction in my body is brought back into focus.

I groan into the trashcan, before weakly pulling away and clambering back onto the bed with shaken limbs. I don't even get all the way on the bed before I collapse, shivering into the sheets, trying to settle my stomach. Half my body curls into the still-warm blankets while the other dangles off the bed.

In a word: ow.

Everything hurts. I've been sick before, but this was so much worse. It was like the flu on steroids. Even after puking, my stomach twists, a pinching type of pain that sparks a surge of nausea and makes my skin flush. I bury my face into the sheets, trying to ignore the ache burrowing deep into my joints. It feels as though something is drilling through my flesh, clear down to the bone, that won't stop till it meets the other end.

Chills race up and down my body, followed by washes of hot and cold sensations that leave the rest of me in cahoots.

Everything hurts.

With shaky fingers, I pull myself up onto the bed completely and curl into a shivering hamster ball. My teeth clatter, cold goosebumps pepper my skin, but everything feels so excruciatingly hot.

I feel like a dehydrated fish.

Leo might say that I kind of am one.

Which, when I think about it, the comparison can't be that far off. In fact, it kind of makes me want to laugh. Then I'm reminded of the dryness in my throat and it doesn't seem so funny anymore. Against the blanket, my lips sting. Cracked and dry, no doubt. It feels like they should be bleeding, but there's nothing on the blanket so I guess not.

Just thinking about water sends a sharp pang of yearning in my chest, and my gut clenches as if calling out to it. What's the harm of a little sip? Just a little bit. It can't be all bad. Stay away from the water, what a big hoax, right.

Right!?

I groan again, sounding like a dying whale.

I'm not sure when Annabeth left for her quest, but I think it was sometime in the morning. Hours passed after that, Will had come in frequently enough to check on me and try any new sort of medic-technique that might help. Chiron too. But nothing seems to do the trick. I can appreciate the effort, you know. I'd just probably appreciate it a lot more if my skin didn't feel like it was being turned inside out and laid out on a bunch of hot coals.

The hours passed slowly, but the sun was setting now. Judging by the orange rays of light cast over the room, that is. Annabeth's been gone for so long. How long was this quest going to take again?

Despite my better judgment, I crawl toward the window by the bed and pull myself up. Leaning against the frame, I stare outside at the demigods finishing up last-minute activities before the Camp Fire began. The window is open, just a slit, and a beautiful breeze of cold winter air brushes over my arm. I shiver pleasantly and lean my head against the glass.

This is a bit better. Makes me feel less like a dying animal and more of a decomposing corpse. The hum of chatter outside is familiar and pleasant. A type of white noise that I can appreciate. Below, I can hear Mr. D and Chiron talking through their card game. Chiron discussing miscellaneous camp things and Mr. D grumbling about his bad cards.

For a minute it's easy to imagine that everything is fine and that it's just another day back at Camp. Then jabbing needles of pain prickle over my body and I'm dragged out of the illusion, screaming and with my feet kicking.

I want to scream for real, but that'd feel like absolute torture to my dry throat.

I close my eyes, trying to ride it out without wanting to huck something across the room or throw a tantrum. After a minute or so the pain ebbs, just slightly, and I open my eyes to glare at the setting sun. It begins touching below the tree's, baking the sky red. My eyes drop when it gets too uncomfortable to watch, and lingers around the forest bordering the camp instead. Tomorrow was Capture the Flag. Man, Annabeth had so excited to get back into it that she had devised a whole new plan on the plane.

So much for a summer vacation, I pout.

Another breeze wafts inside, only this time it's colder. My fingers shake as they clamp around the blanket at my feet, and with stiff arms, I curl it around my shoulders to keep out the chill. Even if it feels like sandpaper.

But when I look back out at the forest, my blood runs cold. Not just cold, but completely freezes over.

Someone is staring at me. A figure in black stands at the front line of tree's, cast in shadows, with their arms folded. I can't see their eyes but I know they're staring at me. I just know. The weight of their gaze paints a bright red dot on my face, and there's a pressure on my chest. Like someone is pushing the air from my lungs.

They gesture vaguely to their wrist, where a watch might reside.

Tick. Tock.

Then they turn and slip back into the forest.

I'm struck motionless. I feel frozen over, lodged with ice, and unable to feel. My body whines through aches and pinches of pain, but I can't unlock the paralysis my limbs. None of the demigods outside seemed to notice. Chiron and Mr. D didn't sound as though they'd seen it either.

A sudden wash of vulnerability hits me and I scramble away from the window as if a bullet might fly from the bushes any second and lodge itself into my head. Nausea is back, full throttle and ready to blow. Suddenly, I wish Will was here. Or Chiron, or, heck, maybe even Mr. D. Anyone so that I wasn't by myself.

There's nowhere to go. I could try and make it out of the room, but my legs are shaking so hard I don't think I can make it even if I tried. Throwing something to get someones attention wouldn't work. I could barely crawl on to the bed, much less through the book Annabeth left on the nightstand. Yelling is out of the picture too.

Instead, I wrap myself in the blanket. Feeling like a toddler waiting for the boogeyman. A part of me feels ridiculous hiding in my covers, especially considering all the crazy stuff I've been through, but its easily over-shadowed by the ominous gesture the figure made. Years of living by my gut have never failed me, and my gut said that that figure was not good news.

Tick. Tock. I was on a time limit.

"Be here when I get back, Seaweed Brain,"

Staring at the window, I had a feeling that might not be as easy as we thought.

Uh-oh. Our boy's in trouble. That's all I'm gonna say. :]

So, in case you all don't know, I have posted an update book. It holds all my updates and the books I plan on updating next. Just a reminder I'm cross-updating with my other accounts, but if you want to find information on them, their all in that book too. I also have the covers, descriptions, and account name to all my books in there as well, so you can go there for those.

Another reminder, I have another PJO fic called "The Percabeth Trials: The Hidden Hero." I am VERY excited about this one! It's an alternate ending to "The Blood of Olympus" that involves the return of the Arai. I really like how it's going, so if you like pain, feels, action, and a whole lot of angst, just head on over there.

That's all. Thanks for reading!

-BornFromAshes/AshesPheonixFeathers